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Updated: May 20, 2025
"What's that to do with you?" demanded I, to whom by this time the small ragamuffin's impudence had ceased to be astonishing. "On'y 'cos t'other bloke he was 'ere four hour ago, and I ain't see'd you go by. I say, you're a-doin' it, you are." "Has my fr has Smith been here this evening?" I asked. "He are so; and I give 'im a shine to-rights, I did.
Outside under the wood Mr. Silver, pipe in mouth, was sauntering round Ragamuffin's grave. "He said I was afraid!" she muttered. When her mother left the room, the girl went to the window. The gallop had kindled in her for the moment the flame of her old ambition; but the desire had died down swiftly as it had risen. Boy knew now that she no longer really wanted to ride the Grand National Winner.
She wanted something else fiercely. Cautiously she peeped out of the window. Mr. Silver, in that old green golf-jacket of his, that clung so finely to his clean shoulders, was prowling along the edge of the wood close to Ragamuffin's grave, peeping for early nests. The girl remembered that it was St. Valentine's the day birds mate. She turned away. The Dancer's Son
"Why, you poor little thing!" cried Betty compassionately, and again she sank on her knees at Hannibal's side, and slipped her arms about him. The child began to cry softly. "What ragamuffin's this, Betty?" growled Ware disgustedly. But Betty did not seem to hear. "Did you come alone, Hannibal?" she asked. "No, ma'am; the judge and Mr. Mahaffy, they fetched me."
The artist started, twisted his head, and for the first time became conscious of the ragamuffin's presence. "Oh, you see it blue, do you?" He smiled ironically. "Ay," said Paul, with pointing finger. "Look at it. It's not brown, anyhow. Yon's black inside and blue outside." The young man shaded his brow and gazed intently. Brilliant sunshine plays the deuce with tones.
Thinking vaguely thus, the girl once down the hill caught hold of Ragamuffin and spun him along the valley between the hills till she came to the coastguard station, straggling like a flock of sheep across the Gap. At the mouth of the Gap was a familiar post. She slipped Ragamuffin's rein over it, and ran down the steep, uneven way through the chalk cliff, her bob-tail baying at her side.
The blue eyes and the baby smile went up, confidingly, to the young ragamuffin's face. There had been kindness here. The boy had taken to Jo, it seemed; and was benevolently evincing it, in the best way he could, by teaching her good-natured slang. "Yes; I'm a little brick," she lisped. Miss Sampson's keen eyes went from one to the other, resting last and long on Jo.
A sound of hand-clapping and hoarse laughter ascended to them from the Gap. Joses had slipped Ragamuffin's reins over the post, and was clapping his hands. Then he took up a pebble and threw it at the roan. The old pony went off at a gallop and with trailing reins. Boy watched him calmly. "I should have thought of that," she said.
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